Toledot: Why?

These are the histories of Yitzchak, son of Avraham. Avraham begot Yitzchak. And Yitzchak was 40 years old when … (Genesis 25:19-20)

So begins this week’s Torah portion, Toledot (Genesis/Bereishit 25:19-28:9).

At age 40, Yitzchak (“Isaac” in English) has not yet recovered from his father’s attempt to kill him. Back in the Torah portion Vayeira, Avraham heard God order him to slaughter his son Yitzchak on an altar and burn him as an offering. Avraham obeyed, and Yitzchak cooperated, until at the last minute God called it off. (See my post Vayeira: Return to Silence.) Father and son burned a ram on the altar instead, then went their separate ways. Only Avraham returned to the family camp at Beersheba.

But since God promised Avraham descendants through Yitzchak, Avraham wanted Yitzchak to get married. Moreover, he wanted Yitzchak to marry a woman from his own extended family in Aram, not a Canaanite. (See my post Chayei Sarah: Priorities.) So (probably because he knows Yitzchak is no longer speaking to him) Avraham sends his steward to Aram to fetch a bride and bring her to Beir-Lechai-Roi, where Yitzchak is living in last week’s Torah portion, Chayei Sarah.

Isaac and Rebekah, by Simeon Solomon, 1863

Yitzchak is surprised when Avraham’s steward arrives with a young lady and introduces her as Rivkah, (“Rebecca” in English), Yitzchak’s first cousin once removed. And Yitzchak falls in love with her at first sight. (See my post Chayei Sarah: Arranged Marriage.)

This week’s portion, Toledot, continues:

And Yitzchak was 40 years old when he took Rivkah, daughter of Betueil the Aramean from Padan Aram, sister of Lavan the Aramean, for himself as a wife. (Genesis 25:20)

For nineteen years after their marriage, Yitzchak and Rivkah have no children.

And Yitzchak prayed to God in front of his wife, because she was barren. And God granted his prayer; and his wife, Rivkah, conceived. (Genesis 25:21)

Now Yitzchak is nearly 60 years old, and Rivkah is close to 40.

If Rivkah is happy that she is finally pregnant, her happiness does not last. She is carrying twins.

And the children crushed against one another inside her. And she said: “If it is thus, for what zeh anokhi?” And she went to inquire of God. (Genesis 25:22)

zeh anokhi (זֶּה אָנֺכִי) = am I this? Am I this way? (zeh, זֶּה = this, this way, such + anokhi, אָנֺכִי = I.)

Rivkah might have been thinking “If it’s like this, why me?”

Crushing

Why are the two fetuses crushing one another?

Traditional commentaries view their actions in the womb as indicators of what they will be like when they grow up. The firstborn is named Eisav (“Esau” in English), and right after him Yaakov (“Jacob”) is born. This week’s portion says:

And the boys grew up, and Eisav became a man who knows hunting, a man of the open field; but Yaakov was a quiet man who stayed among the tents. (Genesis 25:27)

And we soon learn that Yaakov is the one who will father all the tribes of Israel.

So one popular line of midrash¹ was that whenever Rivkah passed a pagan temple, Eisav struggled to be born, and whenever she passed by a synagogue or Torah study hall, Yaakov struggled to be born. This midrash assumes that Eisav worshiped different gods from his father Yitzchak—but Eisav’s personal religion is never mentioned in the Torah. It also assumes that there were Jewish synagogues and study halls when the book of Genesis was written, when in fact these institutions were developed about five centuries later.

An alternative explanation is that Eisav tries to kill Yaakov while the twins are in utero.² The Torah portion Toledot does report that Eisav says he will kill his brother as soon as their father dies—but that is only after Yaakov has cheated him twice.³ Could a fetus know what his twin will do decades after their birth?

Tur HaArokh came up with a more amusing answer: “According to the plain meaning of the text, seeing that Esau developed a lot of body hair whereas Yaakov was smooth skinned, Esau’s hair kept rubbing Yaakov’s skin, resulting in violent movement inside her womb, Yaakov trying to escape being scratched.”⁴

This week’s Torah portion does say:And the first one emerged ruddy, as if he had a hairy cloak all over himself; and they called his name Eisav. (Genesis 25:25)

Asking why

Why does Rivkah say: “If it is thus, why am I this way?”

According to Bereishit Rabbah and Ibn Ezra, Rivkah is asking other women whether what she is experiencing is normal.⁵ Later commentators speculated that if they tell her it is normal, she might prefer death to that kind of suffering.⁶ In that case, Rivkah’s cryptic question might mean: “If it’s this bad, why do I even exist?”

Rebecca et Eliezer, by Alexandre Cabanel, 1883

Yet in the previous Torah portion, young Rivkah is kind, cheerful, and athletic. When she sees a stranger (Avraham’ steward) at the well in her Aramean town, she immediately offers him water, then runs back down to the well many times, lugging enough water for all his camels to drink.⁷ Could twenty years of childless marriage to an affectionate and mild-mannered man like Yitzchak make her too depressed to endure a painful pregnancy?

Perhaps the other women tell Rivkah that what she is experiencing is not normal. In that case, she might be afraid of a disastrous delivery. According to Sforno, Rivkah thought: “It is a fact that these fetuses already are at each other’s throats! I have reason to be afraid that one of them will die, so that I endanger myself by giving birth to them, causing one of them to be stillborn … why did my husband insist that I become the mother of his children?”⁸

Or according to Ibn Attar, she is afraid she will have a miscarriage, and asks: “What good was my becoming pregnant if this pregnancy will not be completed successfully?”⁹ I can imagine Rivkah reflecting that she had a good life before Yitzhak’s prayer caused God to intervene, but now, even if she survives the ordeal of this unusual pregnancy, the outcome looks bad. She thinks: “If it is thus, why am I even pregnant?”

Inquiring of God

Before Rivkah became pregnant, Yitchak “prayed to God, in front of his wife”. Some commentators have claimed that after she feels the crushing in her womb, Rivkah also prays to God.

Yet the next verse says “and she went to inquire of God”. If she were addressing God directly in a prayer, why would need to go anywhere? Perhaps she goes to visit a prophet or seer.

One tradition in the midrash is that she went to Sheim,¹⁰ who is her great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-great-grandfather, and is still alive and running a Torah academy! Other classic commentators wrote that she consulted an unnamed prophet in the area—but not Avraham, even though her husband’s ancient father was still alive.

Nor does Rivkah ask her husband, Yitzchak, to inquire of God, even though Yitzchak’s prayer for her pregnancy was effective. Another possibility is that Rivkah goes to a recognized holy place to pray for enlightenment from God. When their marriage was consummated, they lived near Beir-Lachai-Roi, “Well of the Living One Who Sees Me”, where Hagar encountered God when she was pregnant with Yitzchak’s half-brother.¹¹ As a nomadic shepherd, Yitzchak would probably have a regular annual circuit of places to pasture his flocks. There is no indication of where they are living when Rivkah is pregnant, but they may well be near Beir-Lachai-Roi again. And Rivkah might go to Hagar’s well hoping that God would speak to her there.

Answer to an inquiry

And God said to her: “Two nations are in your belly. And two peoples from your body will become separated; [one] people will be bolder and stronger than [the other] people, and [the elder] will serve the younger!” When the days were completed for her giving birth, then hey! Twins were in her belly! (Genesis 25:23-24)

Rivkah receives no guarantee that she will survive giving birth, but at least now she knows that she is indeed carrying twins, and that both infants will survive and live to procreate themselves. Later, when Eisav and Yaakov are adults, she remembers God’s words, and takes steps to make sure that Yaakov, who is born second (and who is her favorite son anyway), receives the blessing that God gave Avraham. (See my post Toledot: To Bless Someone.)

She was a woman of action back at the well in her hometown in Aram, when she filled and refilled a water trough so a stranger’s camels could drink. And she is a woman of action in Toledot when Yitzchak is ready to give a blessing to one of his two sons.

What good is my life?

Nevertheless, she uses the language of despair a second time in this week’s Torah portion.

As an adult, Eisav is an impulsive man who gives his physical needs first priority. When he comes home famished from a hunting expedition, he agrees to sell his rights as the firstborn to Yaakov in exchange for a bowl of stew.¹² When Eisav is 40 years old, he marries two Hittite women from Canaan.

And they were a bitterness of spirit for Yitzchak and for Rivkah. (Genesis 26:35)

After Yaakov follows his mother’s instructions and impersonates Eisav in order to receive Yitzchak’s blessing, Eisav threatens to kill his brother. Rivkah hears, and tells Yaakov to flee to her brother back in Aram.

Then Rivkah said to Yitzhak: “I loathe my life in the face of those Hittite women. If Yaakov should take a wife from the Hittite women—like these, from the women of the land—what is my life for?” (Genesis 27:46)

In other words, “Why am I alive?” or “Why should I live?” or “What good is my life?”

Her dramatic statement about loathing her life is a ploy. Rivkah does not want to tell her husband that his favorite son, Eisav, is planning to commit fratricide. She knows that her husband is as unhappy about Eisav’s wives as she is.¹³ So she uses the idea of Yaakov marrying a Canaanite in order to get Yitzchak to send Yaakov away.

Her ploy works. Yitzchak even agrees that it would be better for Yaakov to marry a relative from Aram.

Then Yitzhak called for Yaakov, and blessed him, and gave him an order, saying to him: “You must not take a wife from the women of Canaan. Get up and go to Paddan-Aram, to the house of Betuel, your mother’s father, and take a wife for yourself from there, from the daughters of Lavan, your mother’s brother.” (Genesis 18:1-2)

Thanks to Rivkah’s manufactured cry of despair, Yaakov heads off at once for Aram, with yet another blessing from his father.

Rivkah asks two existential questions: “If it is thus, what am I this way for?” and “What is my life for?”

Many of us reach a moment when we wonder: Is there a reason behind everything I’m going through? What does it all mean? What is the purpose of my life?

Rivkah offers two approaches to answering these questions. When she wondered why she has been afflicted with such a difficult pregnancy, she went to inquire of God.

If inquiring of God means asking an authority figure—someone who claims to be a prophet, or someone on a book jacket, in a pulpit, or on television—I would consider that a bad idea. Someone else’s idea of the meaning of life might bring you temporary comfort; but it cannot answer a plea from your own unique soul. For that, it would be better to seek God on your own. It might help to go to a place you consider holy. And keep asking the question until the answer comes to you.

When Rivkah asked Yitzchak the rhetorical question “What is my life for?” (or “What good is my life?”) she was only driving home her point that life would be awful if Yaakov, too, married a Canaanite. But it can also be helpful to ask: “What is the purpose of my life? What is it good for?” Never mind what someone else thinks the purpose of your life ought to be. What is the best way for you, with your individual abilities and personality, to spend your life?

Even though circumstances constrict you, you can make some choices that will add meaning and purpose to your life. But first you have to ask the questions.

Midrash is a method of exegesis in which the author adds details to the story in the Torah. This midrash on Genesis 25:20 appears in Bereishit Rabbah (300-500 CE), Rashi (11^th century), Midrash Aggadah (1020–1220 CE), Tze-ena Ure-ena (17^th century), and Kli Yakar (17^th century), among others.
Midrash Tanchuma, 500-800 CE.
Genesis 27:36, 27:41.
14^th-century rabbi Yaakov ben Asher, Tur HaArokh, c.1280– 1340 CE, translation in www.sefaria.org.
300-500 CE midrash Bereishit Rabbah; 12^th-century rabbi Avraham ibn Ezra.
E.g. Chizkuni, 13^th entury; Ramban (acronym of 13^th-century rabbi Moshe ben Nachman).
Genesis 24:17-20.
16^th-century rabbi Ovadiah Sforno, translation in www.sefaria.org.
18^th-century rabbi Chayim ibn Attar, Or HaChayim, translation in www.sefaria.org.
Sheim one of the sons of Noach (“Noah”).
Genesis 16:7-15.
Genesis 25:29-34.
Most of the midrash says that Eisav’s wives are openly worshiping idols of other gods, instead of worshiping the God of Yitzchak and Rivkah.

Chayei Sarah: Priorities

Now Avraham was old, advanced in days, and Y-H-V-H had blessed Avraham in everything. (Genesis 24:1)

Blessings in the Torah are health, long life, prosperity, and fertility. When that verse appears in this week’s Torah portion, Chayei Sarah (Genesis/Bereishit 23:1-25:18), Avraham is over 137 years old, and still healthy. He is a prosperous livestock owner, and he has two sons. So technically, he has been blessed in everything. But he is estranged from both of his sons.

Obeying God

Avraham first heard from God when he lived in the northern Mesopotamian town of Charan, at the beginning of the Torah portion Lekh Lekha. His name was Avram then, and he was 75 years old. He already had the blessings of health and prosperity, but not fertility. His wife, Sarai, was 65 and childless.

And Y-H-V-H said to Avram: “Go for yourself from your land, and from your kin, and from your father’s house, to the land that I will show you! And I will make a great nation of you, and I will bless you, and I will make your name great. Be a blessing!” (Genesis 12:1-2)

Avram obeys God and emigrates to the land of Canaan.¹ He takes along his wife (Sarai, later renamed Sarah), his nephew (Lot), and a number of servants. But Avram’s brother Nachor stays in Charan.

Sarah Leading Hagar to Abraham, by Matthias Stom, 17th century

On three more occasions in the portion Lekh Lekha God says that Avram will have a nation of descendants who will posses the land of Canaan.² Finally his wife arranges for him to impregnate her Egyptian slave, Hagar. Their son, Yishmael (“Ishmael” in English, is born when Avram is 86. But there is friction between Sarai and Hagar.

When Avram is 99, God makes a new covenant with him, changing his name to Avraham and Sarai’s name to Sarah, requiring male circumcision, and promising to give Avraham numerous descendants through Sarah. Yishmael, who is 13 at the time, will eventually father children too, but God’s covenant (and the possession of Canaan) will go to the descendants of Avraham and Sarah’s son, Yitzchak (“Isaac” in English).³

Shortly after that, in the Torah portion Vayeira, Avraham questions God for the first and only time. He urges God to spare the people of Sodom and Gomorrah if even ten of them are innocent. And God agrees—but does not find even ten.⁴

Sarah gives birth at age 90, by a divine miracle. At the feast celebrating Yitzchak’s weaning, Yishmael laughs at his little half-brother, and that is the last straw for Sarah. She demands that Avraham cast out Yishmael and his mother Hagar, so that only Yitzchak will inherit Avraham’s estate—and his covenant with God.

The matter was very bad in Avraham’s eyes, on account of his son. But God said to Avraham: “Don’t let it be bad in your eyes about the lad and about your servant. In everything that Sarah says to you, listen to her voice, since your offspring will be called through Yitzchak.” (Genesis 21:11-12)

Avraham obeys God. Yishmael nearly dies of thirst in the desert because Avraham has sent him and his mother away with insufficient provisions, but a divine messenger points out a well, and they survive and settle far to the south, outside Canaan.⁵

After his second son has grown up, Avraham hears God orders him to slaughter Yitzchak and burn him as an offering to God. Instead of questioning God again, Avraham simply obeys. He leaves early in the morning with his son and two servants, without telling Sarah. Once he has bound Yitzchak on an altar and raised a knife over his son’s throat, a voice from God stops him. Avraham returns to his camp at Beersheba without his son.⁶ Yitzchak goes his own way, ending up at Beir-Lachai-Roi, the place where Hagar had encountered God.⁷

Sarah dies at age 127, at the beginning of this week’s Torah portion, Chayei Sarah, and Avraham buries her. But Yitzchak is absent. He might not even hear about his mother’s death until after her burial.

Avraham is consistent. Whenever he must choose between obeying God or being a decent father, he always chooses to obey God.

Assisting God

Now Avraham was old, advanced in days, and Y-H-V-H had blessed Avraham in everything. (Genesis 24:1)

Yes, God had blessed Avraham with health, long life, prosperity, and fertility. And God also promised him that his descendants through Yitzchak would inherit the land of Canaan.

But Yitzchak has never married, never had a child. So Avraham takes the initiative to make God’s promise come true.

He does not send a message asking Yitzchak to come to him to discuss the problem. I suspect he figures that since his son has avoided him this long, he would refuse to come. Instead, Avraham sends his steward to find Yitzchak a wife.

Avraham said to his servant, the elder of his household, who ruled over all that was his: “… I want you to swear by Y-H-V-H, the God of the heavens and the earth, that you will not take a wife for my son from the women of the Canaanites, among whom I dwell. Instead, you must go to my land and to my kin and take a wife for my son, for Yitzchak.” (Genesis 24:2-4)

After living for more than 60 years in Canaan, Avraham still thinks of Mesopotamia as his land. And he knows that he still has kin in Charan; he received news that his brother Nachor and his wife had eight sons and at least one granddaughter.⁸ But why does he want Yitzchak’s wife to be one of his relatives from Charan, instead of a local girl?

In the 13^th century, Radak wrote: “The entire Canaanite tribe is cursed since the days of Noach, and Avraham’s seed is not to be merged with that of a cursed tribe.”⁹

Other commentators proposed that if Yitzchak married a relative, the pair would have a natural affinity and equal status, and therefore a more harmonious marriage.¹⁰

A third approach was to point out that since Avraham was a devout follower of Y-H-V-H, he did not want Yitzchak to be influenced by “idolaters”. That ruled out a Canaanite bride, since Canaanites worshipped other gods. So did most Mesopotamians, though Avraham’s own kin worshipped Y-H-V-H.¹¹

Since Avraham prizes his relationship with Y-H-V-H more than any of his relationships with humans, his goal in getting Yitzchak a wife must be to ensure that there will be descendants who worship Y-H-V-H, and therefore qualify for his God’s gift of Canaan. A Canaanite wife and her family might teach Yitzchak’s children to worship other gods.

Furthermore, according to the 13^th century commentary Chizkuni, “Avraham did not want that in the future anyone could claim that his claim on the Holy Land was based on intermarriage with the previous owners of that land.”¹²

Avraham knows that Yitzchak’s descendants will not take possession of Canaan through intermarriage, because God has already told Avraham, back in the portion Lekh Lekha, that his descendants would be enslaved in another land for four hundred years, and only then return and take the land of Canaan.¹³

But the servant said to him: “Perhaps the woman will not be willing to go after me to this land. May I then take your son back there, to the land from which you once went out?” (Genesis 24:5)

It is a reasonable question. Is Avraham’s main goal the marriage of Yitzchak to one of his relatives, or is there an additional agenda?

Abraham’s Solemn Charge, by Pedro Orrente, 17th century, detail

And Avraham said to him: “Guard yourself against taking my son back there! Y-H-V-H, the God of the heavens, who took me from my father’s house and from the land of my kin, and who spoke to me and swore to me, saying: I give this land to your descendants—[God] will send [God’s] messenger ahead of you, and you will take a wife for my son from there. But if the woman is not willing to follow you, then you will be clear from this oath of mine. Only you must not take my son back there!” (Genesis 24:6-8)

Why does Avraham insist that Yitzchak must not go to Charan? Some classic commentary says that when he dedicated his son as a sacrifice to God, Yitzchak’s new status as sacred became permanent (even though God then intervened to prevent Avraham from cutting his son’s throat). Being sacred, Yitzchak was not allowed to leave “the Holy Land”.¹⁴

But Radak wrote: “Avraham did not want the claim on the land of Israel which God had promised him and which had been established through his physical presence in that land, to become subject to doubt through an even temporary migration of Yitzchak.”¹⁵

My opinion is that if Yitzchak settled down and had children in Charan, he would have no motivation to return to Canaan. His mother was dead, and ever since Avraham nearly sacrificed him, he has been avoiding his father. If Yitzchak spent the rest of his life in Charan, his descendants would have no motivation to go to Canaan.

Even God tells Yitzchak not to leave the land of Canaan in next week’s portion, Toledot.

And Y-H-V-H appeared to him and said: “Do not go down to Egypt! Dwell in the land that I tell you!” (Genesis 26:2)

Then is it a problem when Yitzchak dispatches one of his own sons, Yaakov (“Jacob” in English), to Charan to find a bride? Hirsch explained that the situation is different for Yaakov because his parents (Yitzchak and his wife Rivkah, “Rebecca” in English) stayed behind in Canaan. “… his family was still living in isolation in Canaan, and that is what drew him back to the family, immediately after his children were born.”¹⁶

Avraham does not know, at this point in the story, that he will live on in Canaan until he dies at age 175. But he probably does know that if Yitzchak moved to Charan, he would not return to Canaan in order to see his father.

So he does what he can to fulfill God’s plan, by ordering his steward to get a bride from his kin in Charan and bring her to Yitzchak in Canaan. He can only hope that his son will accept the woman and give her a child; but perhaps he believes that since Yitzchak once obediently lay down on top of the firewood on an altar, he will obediently marry the woman his father arranges for him.

Avraham dedicates his life to obeying God and furthering God’s plans. The price of this dedication is the loss his two sons. Both Yishmael and Yitzchak remain alive thanks to God, not to their father. And the Torah does not report that either of them sees Avraham again until after his death, when both Yishmael and Yitzchak bury him.¹⁷

What kind of God would command a father to throw out his older son and kill his younger son? What kind of person would obey a God like that, and work to further that God’s plans?

What kind of God would you trust? What kind of person do you want to be?

See my post Lekh Lekha & Noach: Why Leave?
Genesis 12:7, 13:14-15, and 15:5-18.
Genesis 17:1-27.
Genesis 18:20-32.
Genesis 21:14-21. See my post Vayeira: Failure of Empathy.
Genesis 22:1-19. See my post Vayeira: Return to Silence.
See my post Lekh Lekha: First Encounter.
Genesis 22:20-24.
Radak (acronym of 13^th century Rabbi David Kimchi), translation in www.sefaria.org referring to Genesis 9:25-27.
E.g. Bachya ben Asher (14^th century), Tze-enah Ure-enah (17^th century).
E.g. Kli Yakar (17^th century), S.R. Hirsch (19^th century).
Chizkuni, 13^th century, translation in www.sefaria.org.
Genesis 15:13-21—an allusion to the book of Exodus.
E.g. 14^th century Rabbi Bachya ben Asher.
Radak (acronym of Rabbi David Kimchi), 13^th century, translation in www.sefaria.org.
19^th-century Rabbi Raphael Samson Hirsch, The Hirsch Chumash: Sefer Bereishis, translated by Daniel Heberman, Feldheim Publishers, Jerusalem, 2002, p. 518.
Genesis 25:9.

Lekh Lekha & Vayeira: Pleasure

In last week’s Torah portion, Lekh Lekha (Genesis/Bereishit 12:1-17:27), God keeps promising Avraham numerous descendants,¹ but he remains childless until his wife arranges for him to impregnate her Egyptian slave Hagar.² At the end of the portion, God makes a new covenant with Avraham, and a new promise: descendants through his wife.

First annunciation

Then God said to Avraham: “Sarai, your wife—she will no longer be called by her name, Sarai. Because [now] Sarah is her name! I will bless her. Indeed, I will give you a son from her, and I will bless her so that she will become nations! Kings of peoples will come from her.” (Genesis 17:15-16)

sarah (שָׂרָה) = (noun) noblewoman, female official.

The change from an ordinary name to one that indicates high status may reflect Sarah’s new role as the progenitor of kings. But how can Sarah, who is 89 years old and has never given birth, fill this role?

Then Avraham fell on his face and laughed, and he said to himself: “Will a son be born to a hundred-year-old, and will Sarah bear a child at ninety?” And Avraham said to God: “If only Yishmael will live in your presence!” (Genesis 17:18)

When Avraham hears God’s promise, he has two thoughts: that both he and Sarah are too old to have a baby; and that if they do have a son, the boy will replace Hagar’s son, Yishmael (“Ishmael” in English) as Avraham’s heir. Yishmael is now thirteen years old, and Avraham loves him.

Men in the Torah “fall” on their faces, prostrating themselves, when they are petitioning God or a king. According to 18^th-century rabbi Chayim ibn Attar, “Abraham prayed that Ishmael should enjoy divine assistance to live as a righteous person.”³

After God tells Avraham to name Sarah’s son Yitzchak (“Isaac” in English; yitzchak (יִצְחָק) = he laughs), God reassures Avraham that Yishmael will live and father his own nation of descendants.

“But my covenant I will establish with Yitzchak, whom Sarah will bear to you at this appointed time, in another year.” (Genesis 17:21) Then God makes a new covenant with Avraham: God will give Avraham’s descendants the whole land of Canaan; and Avraham, all his male descendants, and all their male slaves, will be circumcised.⁴ So Avraham has himself and all the other males in his household circumcised, including his 13-year-old son Yishmael, thus fulfilling his part of the new covenant with God.

Second annunciation

This week’s Torah portion, Vayeira (Genesis 18:1-22:24), opens:

Abraham and the Angels, by James Tissot, ca. 1900

And God appeared to him at the great trees of Mamrei, and he was sitting in the entrance of the tent at the heat of the day. He raised his eyes and looked, and hey! Three men standing over him! And he saw, and he ran from the entrance of the tent to meet them, and he bowed down to the ground. (Genesis 18:1-2)

It takes some time for Avraham to figure out that these three men are really divine messengers (angels). He lavishes hospitality on them, inviting them to recline under a tree, wash their feet, and eat something. He tells Sarah to make flatbread with fine flour for them, tells his boy (Yishmael? A servant?) to slaughter and roast a calf, and fetches butter and curds.

And he was standing over them, under the tree, and they ate. And they said to him: “Where is Sarah, your wife?” And he said: “Here in the tent.” (Genesis 18:8-9)

It was considered polite for visitors to inquire about the welfare of their host’s family. But why would these men, whom Avraham has never seen before, know his wife’s name? Furthermore, even if they had somehow heard of her, they would have called her by her old name, Sarai, not by the name God had recently given her.

According to Chayim ibn Attar, “The angels wanted that Abraham should realize that the message they had to deliver was primarily for Sarah; this is why they enquired about her whereabouts. Abraham indicated that she was within the tent ready to listen to what they had to say to her.”⁵

Sarah Hears and Laughs, by James Tissot, ca. 1900

The phrase “And they said to him” may imply that Avraham is not paying attention to which of the three “men” is speaking. But in the next verse, “they” becomes “he”.

Then he said: “I will definitely return to you when [this] time [of year] revives, and hey! A son for Sarah, your wife!” And Sarah was listening at the entrance of the tent, which was behind him. (Genesis 18:10)

This speaker is either God or a divine messenger acting as God’s mouthpiece, telling Avraham the same thing that God said before the circumcisions: that one year later, Sarah would have a son.⁷

Before the second annunciation, the leader of the three “men” makes sure that Sarah is close enough to hear. Like Avraham, Sarah reacts to the news with laughter.

And Avraham and Sarah were old, coming on in days. The path of women [menstrual periods] had ceased for Sarah. And Sarah laughed inside herself, thinking: “After I am worn out, will there be ednah for me? And my lord is old!” (Genesis 18:12)

ednah (עֶדְנָה) = sexual pleasure, sensual pleasure. (From the same root as the verb ע־ד־ן = luxuriate, enjoy sensually, and the proper noun Eden, עֵדֶן = the location of the primeval garden where the first two humans eat from the Tree of Knowledge and have sexual intercourse.)

Sarah’s laughter indicates that she is surprised; evidently her husband has not told her everything that God said to him earlier. According to Hirsch, “Apparently, God’s Will was that Sarah should hear the news only incidentally. In this way, she, too, would hear it firsthand; the astounding abnormality of it all would strike her abruptly; and, to her too, the news would at first appear absurd.”⁸ As Sarah laughs, her first thought is that she is old and worn out. Next she wonders whether she will have sexual pleasure again. Then she notes that Avraham is old.

1. “I am worn out”

What does Sarah mean by “worn out”? Some classic commentary focuses on her beauty and her skin. In the Talmud, “Rav Ḥisda says: After the skin had worn out [nitballa] and become full of wrinkles, the skin once again became soft [nitadden] and her wrinkles smoothed out, and Sarah’s beauty returned to its place.”⁹

In the 12^th century, Rashbam even defined ednah as “a form of the skin becoming elastic and the wrinkles straightening out.”¹⁰

Midrash Tanchuma is more practical, and imagines Sarah thinking: “These innards are to carry a fetus, these shriveled breasts are to draw milk?”¹¹

2. “Will there be ednah for me?”

Sarah’s second thought is of ednah, sexual pleasure. It is likely that Sarah, at age 89, has vaginal dryness that would make intercourse painful rather than pleasurable. Yet as soon as she hears the “man” prophesy that she will have a son, she wonders whether it means that she will have ednah.

This passage is not like the Christian story of a virgin becoming pregnant and bearing a child. Instead, it presents an old woman who misses the sexual relations she had in the past, and wonders if the prophecy would mean she will have at least one more night of pleasure.

How long has it been since Avraham and Sarah were physically intimate? The Torah does not say. But we can deduce that they sleep in the same tent.

When Avraham first sees the three “men”, he is sitting “in the entrance of the tent”—not his tent, but the tent. When the visitors ask him where Sarah is, he replies“Here in the tent.”

Since Avraham is a rich nomad, the tent is probably large and sprawling, divided by curtains into several rooms inside, like a Bedouin tent today. We are not told whether Sarah’s slave Hagar has her own room in the tent, nor where Yishmael sleeps. (Avraham also has employees and male slaves to care for his herds and flocks; they would have their own tents, and pitch them sometimes at Avraham’s campsite, sometimes at other locations where the animals are pastured.)

But even though Avraham and Sarah sleep in the same tent, they may not be physically affectionate. Theirs is a long but difficult marriage. When they moved to Egypt during a drought, Avraham asked Sarah to lie and say she was his sister, so he could sell her to the pharaoh as a concubine; God arranged for her to return unscathed, and Avraham got to keep the riches, but I find it hard to imagine that she was sanguine about the whole episode.¹² Later, Sarah arranged for Avraham to impregnate her Egyptian slave, so she could adopt the child. But when her pregnant slave belittled her, Sarah blamed Avraham, and Avraham merely told his wife to do whatever she liked about the problem.¹³ Friction arises between Sarah and Avraham again later in this week’s Torah portion, after Sarah’s son is born.

3. “My lord is old”

Sarah’s third thought after the annunciation is “My lord is old”. In the Hebrew Bible a wife might refer to her husband as adoni (אָדֺנִי) = my lord, or as ba-ali (בַּעְלִי) = my owner, or as ishi (אִישִׁי) = my man. Ishi is the most affectionate term, but Sarah thinks of Avraham as her lord and master. According to Midrash Tanchuma, this is a sign of her esteem: “However, Abraham’s wife honored him and called him my lord …”¹⁵ But another possibility is that Sarah thinks of her husband with some bitterness over his lack of empathy for her in the past.

Sarah believes that even if she had periods again, Avraham is too old to make her pregnant. One midrash comments:

“Rav Yehuda said: He grinds but does not discharge. Rabbi Yehuda ben Rabbi Simon said: The Holy One blessed be He said: ‘Each of you considers yourself young, and your counterpart old, but am I too old to perform miracles?’”¹⁶

At age 99, Avraham might well experience some sexual dysfunction. Yet after Sarah dies 38 years later, he remarries and has six more sons.¹⁷ Perhaps Sarah is blaming his lack of interest in bed on his advanced age, when actually he has lost interest in her.

Why laugh?

Then Y-H-V-H said to Avraham: “Why does Sarah laugh, thinking: ‘And will I truly give birth, when I myself am old?’ Is anything too wondrous for Y-H-V-H? At the appointed time I will return to you, when [this] time [of year] revives, and Sarah will have a son!” (Genesis 18:13-14)

Although the text now uses God’s personal name, Y-H-V-H, God is still speaking through a divine messenger who looks—and sounds—like a man, because Sarah hears from inside the tent.

Although God did not question Avraham’s laughter at the first annunciation, God now questions Sarah’s laughter.

And Sarah lied, saying: “No, I did not laugh,” because she was afraid. But he said: “No, indeed you did laugh.” (Genesis 18:15)

Sarah’ fear indicates that she believes the “man” outside the tent is either a true prophet or a divine messenger, and therefore God now knows that she laughed. What if God considers her laughter a sign that she does not believe God can make the miracle happen? In her fear, she lies instinctively.

But what is the real reason why she laughed?

As I read the story, Sarah laughs in joy and amazement over the news that even though she is 89 and has little to show for her life, a new life is about to begin. Sarah has probably resigned herself to a marriage with a man who gives her little empathy or affection, and no sensual pleasure; to having no child of her own (since her bold attempt at adoption did not work out); and to living out her remaining years with few good memories. Now, suddenly, Avraham’s mysterious visitors arrive knowing her new name, and promising that next year she will have a baby. A miracle! A new life, with love and affection and meaning, for however long she has before she dies!

Genesis 12:2, 12:7, 13:16,15:2-5, 15:13, 15:18.
Genesis 16:1-16. See my post Lekh Lekha: Belittlement.
18^th-century rabbi Chayim ibn Attar, Or HaChayim, translation in www.sefaria.org.
Genesis 17:3-14.
Chayim ibn Attar, ibid.
19^th-century rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch, The Hirsch Chumash: Sefer Bereshis, translation by Daniel Haberman, Feldheim Publishers, Jerusalem, 2002, p. 408.
Although the “man” says “I will definitely return to you”, no such visit is reported. But the Torah does consider God the opener of wombs, who decides whether a woman will get pregnant. (See Genesis 29:31 and 30:22.) Later in the Torah portion Vayeira, “Y-H-V-H did to Sara as he had spoken.” (Genesis 21:1))
Hirsch, ibid.
Talmud Bavli, Bava Metzia 87a, (5^th century CE), translation by Adin Steinsaltz in www.sefaria.org.
Rashbam, acronym of 12^th-century rabbi Shmuel Ben Meir, translation in www.sefaria.org.
Midrash Tanchuma, 500-800 CE, translation in www.sefaria.org.
See my post Lekh Lekha, Vayeira, & Toledot: The Wife-Sister Trick, Part 2.
Genesis 16:3-6; see my post Lekh Lekha: Belittlement.
See my post Vayeira: Failure of Empathy.
Midrash Tanchuma, ibid.
4^th-5^th century midrash Bereishit Rabbah 48:17, translation in www.sefaria.org.
Genesis 25:1-2.

Lekh Lekha & Noach: Why Leave?

The Israelites who follow Moshe (“Moses” in English) out of Egypt in the book of Exodus have a good reason to emigrate. The pharaoh has subjected the Israelite men to forced labor under harsh conditions, with no end in sight and no days off. No wonder they are willing to leave their homes, their plots of land, and their neighborhoods and head off for the unknown country of Canaan—especially since their God is on their side, and has afflicted Egypt with plagues so that they can take their families and their livestock with them.

A generation earlier, Moshe himself left Egypt and became a resident alien in Midian—until God ordered him to return to Egypt and rescue his people. Moshe also had a good reason to emigrate; he had killed an Egyptian overseer who was beating an Israelite man, and in Egypt he was wanted for murder.¹

Five centuries before that, in the book of Genesis, the ancestors of the Israelites—later known as Abraham and Sarah—leave Mesopotamia and head for the unknown country of Canaan. Their reason for emigrating is not as obvious. The Torah does not report that anyone oppressed them in Mesopotamia, or that they committed any rash deeds. So why do they leave?

Terach’s family emigrates from Ur to Charan

Avram, whom God later renamed Avraham (“Abraham” in English), is first introduced near the end of last week’s Torah portion, Noach (Genesis/Bereishit 6:9-11:32).

And these are the genealogies of Terach: Terach begot Avram, Nachor, and Haran,
and Haran begot Lot. And Haran died in the presence of his father Terach, in the land of his moledet, in Ur of the Casdim. And Avram and Nachor took wives for themselves. The name of Avram’s wife was Sarai … And Sarai was barren, she had no child. (Genesis 11:27-30)

moledet (מוֹלֶדֶת) = descendants, offspring; kin in general; birthplace. (From the root verb yalad, יָלַד = gave birth, procreated.)

Then Terach and his whole family leave Ur and head toward Canaan.

… and they set out together from Ur of the Casdim, to go to the land of Canaan. And they came as far as Charan, and they settled there. (Genesis 11:31)

A straight line from Ur to Canaan would cross a vast desert with no water sources. So the only realistic route to Canaan was U-shaped: north into the foothills of Anatolia, in the vicinity of Charan, and then southwest past Damascus to Canaan.

The distances between Ur, Charan, and Canaan are significant. From the lower Mesopotamian city of Ur, where Avram was born, to the upper Mesopotamian city of Charan is about 770 miles (1240 km). From Charan to Canaan is about 500 miles (800 km).

Terach dies in Charan, at age 205. Nachor and his wife stay there² when Avram, Sarai, and Lot pack up again and travel to Canaan. The Torah reports no war, famine, or oppression in either Ur or Charan. So why do Terach and his family emigrate?

Why does Terach leave Ur?

Perhaps Terach leaves for the sake of his eldest son. Avram turns out to be exceptional in his ability to converse with God. Perhaps Terach notices that Avram has an unusual talent, and is willing to uproot his whole family to foster it.

The Netziv wrote that Avram experienced “a heavenly illumination” in Ur, “and he saw the sanctity of the land [of Canaan] from afar”. This 19^th-century rabbi imagined Avram as so “immersed in Godly ideas” that his doting father had to manage the practical details of the journey.³

Chayim ibn Attar suggested that Terach was concerned that his beloved oldest son had no children, and emigrated in the hope that Avram would be blessed with a son in Canaan. “The Torah shows us that Abraham was so important in the eyes of the other members of his father’s household that they all joined in the migration in order to stay close to him.”⁴

Modern commentator Frymer-Kensky suggested: “The worship of YHWH may be the reason that Terah first left Mesopotamia to head for Canaan.”⁵ Although a famous midrash claims (with no evidence) that Terach sold idols,⁶ the Torah indicates that Terach’s whole family worshipped Y-H-V-H as their primary god. Not only does Avram hear from Y-H-V-H in Charan, but decades later, when he sends his head servant back to Charan, Nachor’s son Betueil and grandson Lavan both refer to their god as Y-H-V-H.⁷

Would adherence to Y-H-V-H be a problem in Ur, but not in Charan or Canaan? It seems unlikely. The primary god of Ur was the moon goddess Nanna, and the god of Charan was the moon god Sin. But people throughout Mesopotamia acknowledged multiple gods, as did people in Canaan. I suspect a family that worshipped an obscure god they called Y-H-V-H would not be discriminated against as long as they made no negative comments in public about their city’s chief god.

Avram’s family emigrates from Charan to Canaan

An instruction from God opens this week’s Torah portion, Lekh Lekha (Genesis 12:1-17:27).

And Y-H-V-H [God] said to Avram: “Go for yourself from your land, and from your moledet, and from your father’s house, to the land that I will show you!” (Genesis 12:1)

At this point Avram is still childless, so moledet means either “kin” or “birthplace”. Either the writer is confusing Charan and Ur, or Avram has settled down in Charan with his kin, and now considers it the area around Charan in northern Mesopotamia his homeland.

Next God promises Avram ample rewards if he obeys.

“And I will make a great nation of you, and I will bless you, and I will make your name great. Be a blessing! And I will bless those who wish blessing on you, and curse those who demean you. And all the clans of the earth will be blessed through you!” (Genesis 12:2-3)

The usual blessings in the Torah are health, long life, fertility, and prosperity.

And Avram went as Y-H-V-H had spoken to him, and Lot went with him. And Avram was seventy-five years old when he left from Charan. (Genesis 12:4) Presumably after Terach dies in Charan, Nachor and Milkah decide not to continue the journey to Canaan. But when Avram chooses to obey God’s instruction and go to the land God shows him (which may or may not be Canaan), his wife Sarai and his nephew Lot go with him.

Why do Avram, Sarai, and Lot leave Charan?

The Torah portion Lekh Lekha continues:

And Avram took Sarai his wife and Lot his brother’s son, all their property that they had accumulated, and the persons whom they had acquired in Charan, and they went out to go to the land of Canaan. (Genesis 12:5)

Obviously Avram, Sarai, and Lot had prospered in Charan. They now own a lot of moveable property (livestock and household goods), and a number of servants. They are wealthy and comfortable. Yet instead of staying in Charan, these three decide to emigrate again. The only reason the Torah provides is God’s speech to Avram.

Since God promises Avram blessings and descendants if he goes, Avram and Sarai may decide to leave in the hope of having a son (although Avram is 75 and Sarah is 65).

Lot, however, may decide to go with them in the hope of inheriting his childless uncle Avram’s estate.

On the other hand, maybe Avram, Sarai, and/or Lot simply want to follow the guidance of Y-H-V-H, their god.

Then why does God want Avram to emigrate from Charan to another land? The easy answer is that God is laying the groundwork for what the writers of the book of Genesis already knew—that for centuries one branch of Avram’s descendants, the Israelites, ruled the land formerly known as Canaan.

But within the story in Genesis, other answers are possible. 21^st-century commentator Judy Klitsner posited that God wants to isolate Avram. “With the words lekh lekha, which can literally be translated as ‘go to yourself,’ God commands Abraham to leave behind everything that is familiar and to embark on a path that is uniquely his (Gen. 12:1). And in fact, throughout his trials, Abraham maintains his solitary stance, earning the title ‘Abraham the Ivri, Hebrew’ (14:13), a term that throughout the Bible suggests singularity and otherness.”⁸

Ivri (עִבְרִי) = member of the Hebrew ethnic group; one from the other side. (From the root verb avar, עָבַר = cross over, pass through.)

Other commentators have focused on God’s directive to go not to Canaan, but “to the land that I will show you”. Steinsaltz wrote: “That is how one follows God: without a destination and without an aim. … God says, ‘go forth,’ and one must get up and go, without knowing where one will arrive, without knowing one’s objective, and without knowing one’s aim.”⁹

And Buchdahl wrote: “We Jews were strangers at the birth of Judaism. … God did not permit Abraham and Sarah to begin Judaism within the comfort of their hometown. They had to become immigrants. They had to be the Other in order to create a religion of the Other. … As Jews, we know what it is to feel vulnerable and powerless. God chose the Jewish people to be archetypal strangers. … We are mandated by our tradition to remember, protect, and yes, love the stranger, because that’s who we are.”¹⁰

Some people, like the Israelites who leave Egypt, emigrate for the sake of their lives. They need to escape oppression, persecution, war, natural disasters, poverty. Other people, like Avram, emigrate for the sake of their souls. They might seek more education, a different culture, uncommon opportunities. Or they might even hear a divine call urging them to go for a reason they do not yet know.

But all emigrants have to leave their homes, and leave behind familiar people and things. And they risk arriving at the land they long for and learning that immigrants are not welcome. I continue to pray that someday all borders will be open, and all people will be kind to strangers.

Exodus 2:11-15.
See Genesis 22:20-24, 24:4.
19^th-century rabbi Naftali Zvi Yehudah Berlin (a.k.a. the Netziv), Ha-amek Davar, translation in www.sefaria.org.
18^th-century rabbi Chayim ibn Attar, Or Hachayim, translation in www.sefaria.org.
Tikva Frymer-Kensky, Reading the Women of the Bible, Schocken Books, New York, 2002, p. 12.
Bereishit Rabbah, chapter 38.
Genesis 24:31, 24:50-51.
Judy Klitsner, Subversive Sequels in the Bible, Jewish Publication Society, Philadelphia, 2009, pp. 41-42.
Rabbi Adin Even-Israel Steinsaltz, Talks on the Parasha, Koren Publishers, New Milford, CT, 2015, p. 27.
Rabbi Angela Buchdahl, Heart of a Stranger, Viking, Penguin Random House, 2025, p. 310-311.

Noach: Consensus and Babble

A great flood drowns all humans and animals on earth except for those on the ark built by Noach (“Noah” in English). After the flood, Noach’s three sons and their wives are fruitful and multiply. In this week’s Torah portion, Noach (Genesis/Bereishit 6:9-11:32), their descendants eventually spread out and form nations all over the known world. But first they journey together, away from the mountain where the ark touched down after the flood, and settle on a plain in Shinar—another name for Babylonia.

And all the earth was of one language and one set of words. (Genesis 11:1)

Traditional commentators assumed that the language was Hebrew, and that “one set of words” means that the people were of one opinion, one mind.

After arriving at the fertile river plain,

Building the Tower of Babel, by James Tissot,
circa 1900

Then they said to one another: “Come on! Let’s make bricks, and let us burn them well [bake them hard]!” Bricks were to them like stone, and bitumen was to them like mortar. And they said: “Come on! Let’s build a city and a tower, its top in the heavens! And let us make ourselves a sheim, lest we be scattered over the face of all the earth!” (Genesis 11:3-4)

sheim (שֵׁם) = name, reputation, fame.

The first problem with this plan is that the people decide (presumably by consensus) to live together in a single city, instead of following God’s command to Noach and his family:

“And you: Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth!” (Genesis 9:1)

Geography alone would prevent a single city from filling the earth; oceans, deserts, and mountain ranges would separate people. But these like-minded people do not want to spread out and scatter.

A 19^th-century rabbi known as the Netziv wrote that the people noticed that their opinions are not identical, but decided that as long as they stayed together they could enforce a single program—by punishing, or even executing, nonconformists. “Therefore they sought to ensure that no one would leave their society.”¹

But I figure that the people would ensure consensus through conversation and persuasion rather than by any violent means. After all, they would have passed down stories of the violence among humans that led to God’s decision to flood the earth.

According to Kli Yakar, a commentary from 1602, “there was concern lest we necessarily scatter from one another and brotherhood cease between us” and then “they would come to wars, as war is always common between inhabitants of one country and another.”²

So they build a big city—out of bricks, since the alluvial plain in Mesopotamia has few stones or trees. But why do they build a tower?

The purpose of the tower

One theory is that the tower is simply a landmark so shepherds and anyone else who wanders too far can find the way home.³ Saying that they want a tower with “its top in the heavens” is merely “an exaggeration describing that the Tower would be very tall. We find a similar exaggeration when Moses described the walls of Canaanite cities in Deuteronomy 1:28 as ‘reaching into heaven.’”⁴

But other commentators have taken the phrase literally, and concluded that the people had so much hubris they wanted the top of the tower to reach into God’s domain.⁵ Then if God tried to scatter them, through a flood or some other disaster, they would climb to the top of the tower and wage war against God.⁶

Alternatively, “Their goal was: we will go up and chop large windows and holes in heaven, so that the water will run out, in the hope that the Holy One will no longer bring the Flood upon us.”⁷ (In the first story in Genesis, God creates the earth and sky in between “the waters above” and “the waters below”. Near the beginning of this week’s Torah portion, Noach, God triggers the great flood when all the springs of the great subterranean waters burst open, and the windows of the heavens/skies opened (Genesis 7:11) so rain fell for 40 days and 40 nights.)

Modern scholars point out that since the people are building the tower in Shinar, a.k.a. Babylon, the author is poking fun at the brick ziggurats built in Babylonian cities and considered “the meeting point of heaven and earth”.⁸

Name or fame

But how can the tower make a sheim (name, reputation or fame) for the people of the city, when there are no other humans in the world who might wander by and discover it?

The 18^th-century commentary Or HaChayim explains: “The ‘name’ the Torah speaks of is the ‘name’ of the tower, i.e. its visibility from afar, its significance.”⁹ So God does not object to the tower, but to the city—because God had ordered the people to spread out.

But an earlier commentary, Kli Yakar, proposes that the people wanted fame as individuals, not as one community. “… each one will want to be a ruler and minister in this great city so that his name will spread throughout the world, and through this, disputes will multiply between them as mentioned.”¹⁰ So the desire for individual fame destroys the people’s peaceful unanimity.

And in the 19^th century, Hirsch came up with another solution: “They decided to create a structure that would be an everlasting monument to the power of the community and its preeminence over the individual.”¹¹ In his view, the community “may easily come to regard itself as the highest goal—as though the individual has value only through the community … the individual is expected to sacrifice his life, and the community is expected to renounce its allegiance to morality. Individuals, of course, weep at the loss of a loved one, but when the community builds its edifice of glory the toll in human life is deemed to be of no importance. … A nation’s ambition to make a name for itself and to magnify its national glory spells disaster for its moral mission.”¹²

What does God do?

And God came down to look at the city and the tower that the humans were building. (Genesis 11:5)

The God character in the book of Genesis is neither omnipresent nor omniscient. Sometimes there even seems to be more than one god.¹³

And God said: “Hey! One people, and one language for them all, and this is the start of their doings! And now they will not hold themselves back from anything that they consider doing. Come on! Let’s go down there, and navlah their language, so that no one will understand the language of his fellow!” (Genesis 11:6-7)

navlah (נָבְלָה) = let’s scramble, let’s mix, let’s mix up, let’s confuse. (A form of the verb balal, בָּלַל = scrambled, mixed, muddled, confused.

Does this mean that although the God character in this story is not omnipresent, omniscient, or singular, nevertheless this God (and perhaps a crew of subordinate gods) has the power to alter the language in human minds?

The next verse appears to explain how God, acting alone, scrambled their language without interfering with their minds:

Then Y-H-V-H scattered them from there over the face of all the earth, and they stopped building the city. (Genesis 11:8)

In the 12^th century, Ibn Ezra lists three possible interpretations of this verse: “Some say that the people building the tower started hating each other and each one invented a new language. Others say that the One who grants knowledge to man caused them to forget their language. In my opinion, they were first scattered.”¹⁴

Which is the cause and which is the effect?

The 13^th-century rabbi known as Radak maintained: “God did not scatter the people by physically depositing them in different parts of the earth. By mixing up their languages, the people themselves started moving away from one another, in accordance with their ability to understand one another, Seeing that they were unable to communicate with one another coherently, their building project had to be aborted at any rate.”¹⁵

Therefore its [the city’s] sheim was called Bavel, because there Y-H-V-H balal the language of all the earth, and from there, Y-H-V-H scattered them over the face of all the earth. (Genesis 11:9)

Bavel (בָּבֶל) = the Hebrew name for Babylon.

balal (בָּלַל) = scrambled, mixed, muddled, confused.

The story ends with a slur against Babylon; what a confused place!

Why does God do it?

A literal way to read the story of the Tower of Babel is that God orders Noach’s descendants to scatter and fill the earth; they refuse to do so because they want to stay together; and God punishes them by scattering them so far apart that their languages change and they can no longer communicate well enough to live in peace. Apparently God is more interested in population increase than in peace.

Another interpretation is that if everyone holds the same beliefs, including the same beliefs about God, then no one will seek deeper understanding. We will all follow tradition blindly, without questioning whether, for example, God is more interested in population increase than in peace. So God scattered the people in order to induce their descendants to question one another and develop better beliefs.

A third way to read the story is as a parable about permanence. After the flood, Noach’s descendants know about the death of their entire world. Despite God’s promise not to do it again, they are understandably afraid it might happen again. So the thousands of people in the extended family do not want to separate and scatter over the earth. They try to put down roots by building a city out of a permanent material, brick. And they build a tall tower to establish a name for themselves—either to create a monument that will outlast them, or to prevent the sky from flooding again, or to touch the eternal heavens above the ever-changing earth. But God will not let anything on earth endure forever, so they are scattered, and they give up on the project.

Today the earth is so full of human beings that our polluting activities have unbalanced the climate. And although we try to improve our communications, we do not share the same values, and there is always war in some part of the world.
Overall, human ethical beliefs have improved, but we still have a long way to go. Human beings are still afraid of dying without achieving anything permanent. And we are still confused.

We are still Noach’s descendants, the same species that tried to build the Tower of Babel. But instead of a tower, perhaps we can build a world that is a little better than the one we inherited.

19^th-century Rabbi Naftali Zvi Yehuda Berlin (a.k.a. the Netziv), Ha-amek Davar, translation in www.sefaria.org.
Rabbi Shlomo Ephraim ben Aaron Luntschitz, Kli Yakar, 1602, translation in www.sefaria.org.
E.g. 13^th-century rabbi David Kimchi (a.k.a. Radak); 18^th century rabbi Chayim ibn Attar, Or HaChayim. Translations in www.sefaria.org.
Radak, ibid.
E.g. Midrash Tanchuma, circa 500 – circa 800 CE.
Siftei HaChamim, 17^th century.
Tze-enah Ure-enah, a 17^th-century Yiddish commentary, translation in www.sefaria.org.
Dr. Tamara Cohn Eskenazi, The Torah: A Women’s Commentary, URJ Press, 2008, reprinted in www.sefaria.org.
Or HaChayim, ibid.
Kli Yakar, ibid.
Rabbi Samson Raphael Hirsch, The Hirsch Chumash: Sefer Bereshis, Feldheim Publishers, Jerusalem, 2002, p. 266.
Hirsch, ibid., pp. 267-268.
See my post Bereishit: How Many Gods?
Rabbi Abraham ibn Ezra, 12^th century, translation in www.sefaria.org.
Radak, ibid.

Bereishit: In the Image

At the beginning of the book of Genesis (Bereishit, בְּרֵאשִׁית = in a/the beginning, at first, when beginning), God’s first creation is light. Then God adds other elements of the universe we know, concluding with the creation of humankind.

And God created the adam in his tzelem, in the tzelem of God he created it, male and female he created them. (Genesis 1:27)

adam (אָדָם) = humankind; a human being.

tzelem (צֶלֶם) = image, model, statue or drawing.

(See footnote below on why my translation refers to God as “he”, an exception to my usual approach to God pronouns.)¹

The human being is the only creature in the Torah made in the image of God. But what does that mean? In what way are human beings modeled after God?

In physical appearance?

Michelangelo, Creation of Adam, Sistine Chapel, 1508-1512

Some people still picture God as an old man with a long white beard. But there is only one place in the Hebrew Bible in which God appears in human form: when Avraham sees three men approaching his tent, and hurries to offer them hospitality.² When the strangers depart, two of them head down to Sodom;³ they turn out to be divine messengers (angels); elsewhere in the bible, angels sometimes appear in human form.⁴ The third stranger remains at the overlook with Avraham, and is now identified by God’s personal name, Y-H-V-H.⁵ After God and Avraham have a conversation about Sodom,

Then Y-H-V-H went, as soon as he had finished speaking to Avraham, and Avraham returned to his place. (Genesis 18:33)

Does God look like a man throughout their conversation, or is God a voice in Avraham’s head once more? Does God walk away, or vanish? The text does not say.

The only description of God in this passage is that God is one of “three men”. Everywhere else in the Torah, God manifests as a fire, a cloud, or a voice, not as anything shaped like a human being.

Nevertheless, visions of God sometimes use anthropomorphic terms. Several prophets report seeing a vision of a robed figure on a throne.⁶ When the seventy elders climb partway up Mount Sinai in the book of Exodus, they behold a vision of God,

—and beneath [God’s] feet, like a pavement of sapphire, like the substance of the skies in purity. (Exodus 24:10)

This verse mentions only God’s feet, and there is no description of them. The Hebrew Bible often refers to God’s power to act in terms of God’s “hand” or “arm”, and to God’s anger in terms of a burning nose—but the same metaphors are used for human power and human anger. There are also references to God’s “ear”, meaning God’s ability to listen, and to God’s “eye”, meaning what God perceives.

Ibn Ezra explained in the 12^th century: “Now a human being cannot speak of things above or below him without employing human terminology. Hence Scripture uses such terms as the mouth of the earth (Num. 16:30) … Far be it from us to believe that God has an image!”⁷

No doubt some unsophisticated readers have interpreted these anthropomorphic references literally, but there is no reason to believe that the scribes who first recorded them did.

In incorporeality?

One Jewish belief since Talmudic times (4^th-5th centuries C.E.) is a human being has two parts: an incorporeal divine soul, and a physical body animated by a lower form of soul. All other animals lack the higher kind of soul.

Ibn Ezra wrote in the 12^th century: “It is because man’s upper soul is eternal and is compared in its existence to God—and because man’s soul is incorporeal and fills the body, which is a microcosm, in the same way that God fills the universe—that Scripture states: in our image, after our likeness.”⁸

Ramban explained that the lower soul, which all animals and humans have, is located in the blood that circulates through the body. The prohibition in the book of Leviticus against eating the blood of animals says:

Because the nefesh of the flesh, it is in its blood! (Leviticus 17:11)

nefesh (נֶפֶשׁ) = the soul that animates the body; throat, appetite; personality, state of mind.

Leviticus repeats this explanation a few verses later, adding that it applies to all flesh.⁹

After locating the souls of all beasts, and the lower soul of humans, in the blood, Ramban wrote: “… and afterwards, He breathed into him a higher soul.”¹⁰

By around 400 C.E., rabbis inclined toward kabbalah had identified five levels of soul in human beings, based on five Biblical Hebrew words that can be translated as “soul”.¹¹ The two most common words for “soul” are nefesh, the lower, animal soul; and neshamah (נְשָׁמָה), the higher, divine soul, associated with the intellect.

While the nefesh cannot exist without a body to animate, the neshamah is considered incorporeal. After all, our thoughts exist even though we cannot see, hear, smell, taste, or touch them. Opinions differ on whether the neshamah is eternal or dies with the body.

But either way, the neshamah, like God, is mysterious and invisible except for its effects. Perhaps the human neshamah is in the image of God.

In dominion over the earth

There are other ways that humankind might be in the image of God. One obvious candidate is in our ability to subjugate the earth. In the first creation story, God’s creation of humankind is immediately followed by this verse:

And God blessed them, and God said to them: “Be fruitful and multiply and fill the earth and subjugate it! Dominate the fish of the sea, the birds of the heavens, and all living things that crawl about on the earth!” (Genesis 1:28)

The Torah depicts God as the ultimate ruler, the king of kings, who has power not only over the earth and all its animals, but everything else in the universe. And God encourages humankind to subjugate the earth and dominate the other animals.

The 13^th-century commentary Chizkuni says: “Just as God is our ruler, so we rule over the other creatures in the universe.”¹²

In the same century, Ramban wrote that the verse means that humans “are to rule over the earth itself, to uproot and to pull down, to dig and to hew out copper and iron.”¹³

In our own time, humankind has subjugated the earth by polluting it enough to trigger world-wide climate changes—changes that are already dramatically increasing forest fires, drought, and floods, and raising sea levels. And we have dominated other animals to the point of making many species extinct. But then, God destroys the world with a great flood in the next Torah portion, Noach. Does that explain how we were created in the image of God?

In freedom

For several centuries, Torah commentators have asserted that humankind is able to subjugate and dominate the earth and everything on it because our species does not always operate from instinct; our extra intelligence gives us more freedom of choice. According to this line of commentary, God has complete freedom, and human beings are in the image of God because we have a measure of free will.¹⁴

Chayim ibn Attar added that humans, like God, could choose to act with either mercy or judgment. “Given that the creation resembles the Creator with respect to the attributes of mercy and judgment, it follows logically that [man] should rule [over] the creations, since he has the attribute of mercy for … those that require it, and the [capability] to kill those that are guilty in judgment.”¹⁵ But we know that humans do not always make the right choice between mercy or judgment, between pardon or punishment. Does God?

In language?

Perhaps language is the ability that humans share with God. In the first creation story, God creates the universe with words.

And God said: “Light will be!” And light was. (Genesis 1:3)

The creation continues as God speaks each element of the world into being. After speaking the animals of the water and the sky into being, God uses more language to bless them.

And God blessed them, saying: “Be fruitful and multiply and fill the waters in the sea, and let the flying creatures multiply over the earth.” (Genesis 1:22)

On the sixth “day”, God speaks the land animals into being. After creating humankind, God speaks a second blessing, telling humans to multiply, too—but also to subjugate the earth and dominate the other animals.

But a human does not speak until the second creation story, which immediately follows the first one. It begins:

These are the histories of the heavens and the earth, in their being created, at the time Y-H-V-H, God, was making earth and heavens. Before any bush of the field was on earth, and before any green plant of the field had sprouted … (Genesis 2:4-5)

In this story, clearly written by a different scribe, God creates a single human being from the dirt, apparently without speaking.

And Y-H-V-H, God, formed the adam of dust from the ground. And [God] blew into its nostrils
the breath of life, and the adam became a living being. And Y-H-V-H, God, planted a garden in Eden in primeval times, and there he placed the human whom he had formed. (Genesis 2:7-8)

After making trees grow in Eden, God finally speaks, saying to the human:

“From every tree of the garden you may certainly eat. But from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, you should not eat from it; because on the day you eat from it, you will certainly die.” (Genesis 2:17)

Nothing happens. Then God decides the human being needs a helping counterpart. So God forms all the land and sky animals from the dirt of Eden, and brings them to the adam to name. Thus the human starts speaking words.

Adam and Eve in Eden, by Peter Wenzel, 1745

The human called out names for all the herd-animals and for the birds of the heavens and for all the living beings of the field. But for the human, there could not be found a helper as his counterpart. (Genesis 2:20)

After God has split the human into two humans, male and female, a snake speaks to the female human. (A talking snake can only exist in the Garden of Eden, not in the real world.) The female human answers the snake in complete sentences, demonstrating that she, too, can use language.

Whenever the Torah wants to report the thoughts of either God or a human being, it uses the verb amar (אָמַר), which means both “say” and “think”. After all, once human have learned language as babies, we do a lot of our thinking in silent words.

Without words, a human would be more like any other animal. Without words, God would not have created the world. Perhaps language is the way in which humankind is created in God’s image.

In moral knowledge?

In the second creation story, the snake tells the female human that if she and her male counterpart ate from the Tree of the Knowledge of Good and Evil, they would not definitely die. (As the story continues, God casts them out of the garden of Eden, and they live for centuries in the real world, but they are mortal and they do eventually die.) The snake says:

“Rather, God knows that on the day you eat from it, your eyes will be opened and you will become like God, knowing good and evil.” And the woman saw that the tree was good for eating, and that it was a delight to the eyes, and the tree was desirable for insight. And she took some of its fruit and she ate, and gave also to her man with her, and he ate. And the eyes of the two of them were opened … (Genesis 2:5-7)

In other words, God understands the concepts of good and evil. Once the humans have gained insight from eating the fruit, they, too, know the concepts of good and evil. And in that way, they are made in God’s image.

Of course, knowing the difference between good and evil does not mean that everything one chooses to do is good.

So what does it mean to be created in the image of God? Do humans have bodies that look similar to God’s? Are our souls incorporeal, like God? Do we subjugate the earth, as God does? Do we exercise free choice, as God does? Do we use a language of words, as God does? Do we grasp the idea of morality, as God does? Is there another similarity between God and humankind?

Or do we just think humans are created in God’s image because, as Sigmund Freud argued, humans portray God in their own image?¹⁶

In Hebrew all nouns are gendered, but in English “he” means a male person. Therefore translations that apply the pronouns “he”, “him” and “his” to God give the impression that God is a male person. Since I believe that God does not have a gender, and is not a person (a human being or individual), my translations from Hebrew to English either replace pronominal suffixes referring to God with the noun “God”, or omit those pronouns. Genesis 1:27, however, is too difficult to translate into English without using the pronouns “he” and “his”. I could not even replace “he” with the modern substitute “they”, because that would imply that humankind was created jointly by God and the other gods or beings referred to in verse 1:26.
Genesis 18:2-8.
Genesis 18:22.
See my post Haftarat Naso—Judges: Spot the Angel.
Genesis 18:17-33.
In 1 Kings 22:19, Isaiah 6:1, and Ezekiel 1:26-28.
12^th-century rabbi Abraham Ibn Ezra, translated in www.sefaria.org.
Ibid.
Leviticus 17:14.
Ramban, (13^th-century Rabbi Moshe ben Nachman), translated in www.sefaria.org.
Bereishit Rabbah 14:9, circa 400 C.E., The Sefaria Midrash Rabbah, 2022, www.sefaria.org.
Chizkuni, a 13^th-century compilation of commentary by Rabbi Hezekiah ben Manoah, translated in www.sefaria.org.
Ramban, ibid.
E.g. Ovadiah Sforno, 16^th century; Chayim ibn Attar, 18^th century; Adin Even-Israel Steinsaltz, 21^st century.
18^th-century Rabbi Chayim ibn Attar, Or Hachayim, translated in www.sefaria.org.
Sigmund Freud, The Psychopathology of Everyday Life (Zur Psychopathologie des Alltagslebens), 1901; The Future Of An Illusion (Die Zukunft einer Illusion), 1927.

Exhausted by Joy

The Jewish festival of Sukkot runs from the evening of September 25 to the evening of October 2 this year, immediately followed by Shemini Atzeret (“Eighth Gathering”), then Simchat Torah (“Joy of Torah”). This is called Zeman Simchateinu, “the season of our rejoicing”.

This year I volunteered to give a presentation on Sukkot, tell a story about Sukkot based on the Talmud, and lead a rain ritual based on the Shemini Atzeret morning services. Why? Because I love teaching, writing, and storytelling–and because my enthusiasm carries me away.

This week, as I bounce back and forth between enthusiasm and exhaustion, I have no time to research and write a new blog post. But if you would like to read one of my previous posts about Shemini Atzeret, Simchat Torah, or the final Torah portion in Deuteronomy (which we read on Simchat Torah before rolling the Torah scroll back to the beginning of Genesis), may I recommend Shemini Atzeret: Returning to Normal, or Vezot Habrakhah: By Mouth.

Next week I am looking forward to writing something new about the first Torah portion in the book of Genesis!

Sukkot: Elephant in the Sukkah

Now that Yom Kippur has ended, we have four days to build a sukkah for the next Jewish holiday, the week of Sukkot.

In sukkot you must dwell seven days; all the natives in Israel must dwell in sukkot, so that your generations will know that I made the children of Israel dwell in sukkot when I brought them out from the land of Egypt. (Leviticus 23:42-43)

sukkot (סֻכּוֹת) = plural of sukkah (סֻכָּה) = hut, shack, temporary shelter constructed on-site (not a tent).

The Talmud tractate Sukkah establishes that a kosher sukkah has three walls, and a roof made of plant material only, preferably branches. The roof has to have more shade than sunlight. A later tradition says that the roof also has to have openings big enough to see stars through the branches at night. Some Jews sleep in their sukkah (in good weather). It’s more important to eat meals in the sukkah—but not when it’s pouring rain. Because Sukkot is also called Zeman Simchateinu, the Season of Our Rejoicing.

Leather or any substance from an animal is prohibited in the roof of the sukkah. But the walls can be made out of any temporary materials, as long as they are at least ten handspans (32 inches) tall, and at most 30 feet tall.¹ Since a sukkah is open on one side, small living animals can wander in and out. But in the Talmud tractate Sukkah, the rabbis discuss camels and elephants in relation to a sukkah.

Camels

A sukkah was often built on the flat roof of a house in ancient Israel, but the Talmud says it can also be built on the deck of a ship.

If you are traveling overland, can you build your sukkah on a camel? The Talmud reports the opinions of two rabbis.

“In the case of one who establishes his sukkah atop an animal, Rabbi Meir deems it fit and Rabbi Yehuda deems it unfit. The Gemara asks: What is the rationale for the opinion of Rabbi Yehuda? The Gemara answers that it is as the verse states: “You shall prepare for yourself the festival of Sukkot for seven days” (Deuteronomy 16:13), from which Rabbi Yehuda derives: A sukkah that is suitable for seven days is called a sukkah, while a sukkah that is not suitable for seven days is not called a sukkah. It is prohibited to climb upon an animal on the first day of the festival of Sukkot, and therefore a sukkah atop an animal is unfit, as it cannot be used all seven days.

“And Rabbi Meir, who holds that the sukkah is fit, would say: By Torah law, this sukkah is also suitable for use on a Festival and on Shabbat, as there is no Torah prohibition against using an animal on those days, and it is the Sages who issued a decree prohibiting it. The fact that it is prohibited by rabbinic decree does not render the sukkah unfit.” ²

Imagine a camel with a narrow sukkah strapped to its back for seven continuous days! Camels can be trained to carry loads, but they are also cranky animals.

Elephants

The Talmud continues:

“However, if one utilized his animal as a wall for a sukkah and did not establish the entire sukkah atop the animal, Rabbi Meir deems it unfit and Rabbi Yehuda deems it fit … What is the rationale for the opinion of Rabbi Meir, who rules that an animal is unfit for use as a partition in areas of halakha where a partition is required? Abaye said: It is due to the concern lest the animal die, leaving the sukkah without a wall. Rabbi Zeira said: It is due to the concern lest it flee. The Gemara explains the practical halakhic differences between the two opinions. In the case where one established a wall with a tied elephant, everyone agrees that the sukkah is fit, as even if it dies and falls, its carcass still has a height of ten handbreadths and is fit for the wall of a sukkah.

“… In the case where one established a wall with an elephant that is not tied, everyone agrees that the sukkah is unfit lest it flee. Where they disagree is in the case of a tied animal. … The Gemara asks: But according to all opinions, isn’t there the space between its legs, which is like a breach in a wall? How can one establish a partition whose breached segment exceeds its standing segment? The Gemara answers: He establishes a partition for it by filling the gaps with hard palm leaves and laurel leaves, sealing the breach.

“… The Gemara asks further: And even though there is no concern lest the animal die, perhaps it will crouch, leaving a wall that is less than ten handbreadths? The Gemara answers: It is referring to a case where the animal is tied with ropes from above so that it cannot crouch.”³

Imagine an elephant so tame that it would suffer being tied with ropes from above as well as front and back, with hard palm leaves sticking into its belly as it stood still for seven days and nights! Even if a supply of food were kept within reach of its trunk, no elephant would put up with that level of discomfort. Before anyone had time to eat a single bite inside a sukkah with a live elephant as one wall, I am sure that elephant would charge away, dragging the sukkah behind it.

But Talmudic discourse considers even remote possibilities in order to determine whether they would be legal according to halakhah, Jewish law.

The elephant in the room

Probably the Talmudic rabbis used an elephant as an example because it is the biggest land animal on earth. That is also why, when an issue is so huge that everybody is constantly aware of it, yet nobody says anything about it, we use the English idiom “the elephant in the room”. You cannot overlook an elephant.

Is there a figurative elephant in the sukkah today?

So far, Jews in most countries can still build sukkot out in their yards, and eat under the roofs of branches to celebrate the harvest season, to remind us that our homes and our lives are impermanent, and to enjoy ourselves. But is there something too big to ignore that we are refusing to look at?

The elephant in the sukkah might be climate change, and the eventual death of many of the trees whose branches we now collect for our sukkah roofs. It might be autocratic governments that stir up hatred against minority groups, hatred that will make it unsafe to celebrate our holidays outside.

The trick is to respond realistically to the elephant, yet still take the time to make the week of Sukkot a Zeman Simchateinu, a season for rejoicing.

10 tefachim = ~32 inches = ~81 cm; 20 amot = ~30 feet = ~9 meters.
Talmud Bavli, Sukkah 23a, translated by Rabbi Adin Even-Israel Steinsaltz, William Davidson Edition (digital), www.sefaria.org. (I changed the transliteration of סֻכָּה from sukka to sukkah.)
Ibid.

Yom Kippur: Two Kinds of Atonement

Yom Kippur means “Day of Atonement”; the root verb kapar, כָּפַר = atone, reconcile; cover over. It falls on the tenth of the month of Tishrei in the Hebrew calendar; this year Yom Kippur begins on Sunday evening, and continues until nightfall on Monday. On this solemn holy day, Jews confess their collective misdeeds over the past year, and try to return to being “at one” with God.

Why do we need atonement, and how do we do it?

The answer in the Torah and the Talmud is different from the answer in the Yom Kippur liturgy that has evolved over the past two millennia.

Atonement in Torah and Talmud

In the Torah, the Israelites need to achieve atonement with God because they have transgressed some of God’s laws or commandments, advertently or inadvertently. These commandments include ethical rules, rules for religious observance, and cultural norms. The Torah assumes that even the priests, who are charged with teaching everyone else God’s rules, cannot manage to follow all 613 laws¹ all year without errors!²

Sending Out the Scapegoat, by William James Webb, 19th century

The book of Leviticus outlines the Yom Kippur ritual that presumably was followed at the first temple in Jerusalem (10^th century to 587 CE). In brief, the high priest slaughters a bull and a goat, and sprinkles their blood on the outside altar and inside the innermost sanctum, the Holy of Holies.³ Then he lays his hands on the head of a second goat, and confesses that all the people have committed errors in observing God’s rules. This act transfers the Israelites’ misdeeds to the goat. Finally, a designated man sends the goat away “to Azazel” in an inaccessible part of the wilderness. (See my post Acharey Mot: Azazel.) The Israelites must fast and refrain from all labor on Yom Kippur while their misdeeds are being atoned for.⁴ At the end of the day, all the Israelites and their sanctuary have been purified; the invisible residue of disobeying God has been cleaned off and ritual purity is restored, so all the Israelites are at one with God again.

The Talmud tractate Yoma describes Yom Kippur rituals added during the time of the second temple in Jerusalem (516 to 70 CE). The only major change is that the designated man pushed the goat for Azazel (the goat carrying the Israelites’ misdeeds) off a nearby cliff to die, instead of setting it free in an inaccessible place.⁵

Atonement without a temple

The procedure for achieving atonement changed after sacrificial temple services were replaced with prayer services. Before Yom Kippur begins, Jews confess, apologize, and make amends (as much as possible) for the wrongs we have personally done to other people. Then during Yom Kippur we work on atonement with God, through prayer services in the evening and from morning to sundown the next day.

Jews Praying in the Synagogue on Yom Kippur, by Maurycy Gottlieb, 19th century

A temple is not required; Yom Kippur is observed all over the world wherever Jews gather to pray. Although rabbis and cantors usually lead the prayers, neither of these functionaries is required; any knowledgeable Jews can lead, and all congregants and encouraged to join in. No animals are harmed, and no blood is involved. The ritual objects are the Torah scroll and one long-burning candle. Special prayers inserted into the regular liturgy include confessions that all of us have committed unethical acts. We pray for God to forgive us, take us back, and let us live for another year. Observant Jews also fast and refrain from all labor on Yom Kippur. At the end of the day, we hope we have achieved teshuvah(תְּשׁוּבָה) = return: turning around, returning to God, or returning to our God-given souls.

What misdeeds do we atone for?

In Leviticus, the high priest transfers three kinds of sins or misdeeds to the goat that is headed for the wilderness.

And Aaron [the high priest] will lean both his hands on the head of the living hairy goat, and he will confess on it all the avonot of the Israelites and all their pesha-im for all their chatat. And he will place them on the head of the hairy goat, and send it away by the hand of a designated man into the wilderness. Then the hairy goat will carry all their avonot on itself to a separated land; he will send out the hairy goat into the wilderness. (Leviticus 16:21-22)

avonot (עֲוֹנֺת) = intentional deeds that are crooked or wrong, in a social or religious sense; guilt for committing such deeds. (From the root verb avah, עָוָה = do wrong, pervert, twist.)

pesha-im (פְּשָׁעִים) = rebellions against a ruler—a suzerain country, a king, or God; guilt for rebellions against God.

chatat (חַטָּאת) = violation of social norms, civil law, or God’s laws, whether inadvertent or deliberate; guilt for such violations. (From the root verb chata, חָטָא = miss the mark, offend, fall short of a standard; be guilty.)

These three categories cover a lot of offenses against other people and against God. The Hebrew Bible never says exactly what the high priest confessed on the head of the goat. The Talmud says he used these words:

“Aviti, pashati, and chatati.”⁶

aviti (עָוִיתִי) = I have done wrong, I have perverted, I have been crooked. (From the Rabbinic Hebrew root verb avi, עָוִי, which came from the Biblical Hebrew root avah.)

pashati (פָּשַׁעְתִּי) = I have rebelled, I have been an apostate, I have deliberately violated God’s law. (A Rabbinic Hebrew verb from the same root as pesha-im.)

chatati (חָטָאתִי) = I have been mistaken, I have done wrong. (A Rabbinic Hebrew verb from the same root as chatat.)

So according to the Talmud, the high priest used to lay hands on the goat’s head and speak the same three words used in the description in Leviticus. The only new information is that the high priest used to say “I”; he took personal responsibility for all the Israelites.

The Yom Kippur liturgy of the past fourteen centuries includes somewhat more specific confessions, which all congregants make on behalf of all Jews (or in some liberal congregations, on behalf of all human beings). We chant the Vidui (“confession”) up to ten times during the prayer services. The two main prayers of the Vidui are the Ashamnu and the Al Cheit. Both use the first person plural, indicating that we have done these things, and we are collectively responsible.

Ashamnu (אָשַׁמְנוּ) = we have become guilty.

The Ashamnu is an acrostic; there is one word or two-word phrase for each of the first 21 letters of the Hebrew alphabet, and three for the 22^nd and final letter. As we chant them, many Jews lightly beat their breasts. Here is a translation:

We have become guilty, we have betrayed, we have robbed, we have spoken slander. We have been crooked [from the same root as avonot], and we have caused wickedness, we have been arrogant, we have been violent, we have smeared others with falsehoods. We have counseled evil, we have deceived, we have scoffed, we have revolted, we have been disrespectful, we have been stubborn, we have been perverse, we have rebelled [from the same root as pesha-im], we have persecuted, we have been stiff-necked. We have been wicked, we have ruined, we have loathed, we have strayed; you have let us go astray.

We are responsible for doing these things; but God let us do them.

All of these bad deeds can be read as ethical transgressions: actions that harm other people. Only a few of them can also be read as failure to worship God properly.

Al Cheit (עַל חֵטְא) = about wrongdoing, about missing the mark, about falling short. (From the same root as chatat.)

The Al Cheit is also an acrostic, but each letter gets a whole couplet, making it a much longer confession. Every line begins “About the wrongdoing that we have done wrong before you” and continues by describing either a motivation or a misdeed. For example, the first couplet says: “About the wrongdoing that we have done wrong before you under duress or willingly; and about the wrongdoing that we have done wrong before you through hardness of heart.”

The final couplet says: “About the wrongdoing that we have done wrong before you concerning extending a hand; and about the wrongdoing that we have done wrong before you through confusion of mind.”

The chant is interrupted twice by a sentence sung to a different melody:

For all these, God of forgiveness, forgive us, pardon us, atone for us!

We sing this plea again at the end of the Al Cheit.

The method of finding atonement with God has completely changed since the fall of the second temple in Jerusalem in 70 CE. Instead of depending on a priest and two goats to trigger atonement for us, Jews depend on our own prayers—and our inner orientation and good deeds.

Another Yom Kippur prayer, the Unetaneh Tokef, ⁷ considers God’s decisions for the coming year, especially “who will live and who will die”, and then declares:

But turning, and praying, and doing the right thing can overturn the badness of the decree.

We hope to become at one with God by teshuvah (turning around our inner orientation), tefillah (praying), and tzedakah (acting ethically, especially regarding social justice). And just as our confessions say “we” have done wrong, we seek atonement for everyone.

For the last two millennia, we have no longer asked God to forgive us for errors in temple worship. But we still beg God to forgive us, as a group, for crooked deeds (avonot), for revolts against legitimate authority (pesha-im), and for falling short in our interactions with other people (chatat).

When we sincerely ask for forgiveness for everyone, our hearts open, and we become kinder, more forgiving, more ethical, more at one.

Maimonides (Rabbi Moshe ben Maimon, a.k.a. Rambam) combed through the Torah in the 12^th century CE and found 613 commandments from God. His list remains the standard in the Jewish world, although 342 of them cannot be performed without a temple in Jerusalem.
Leviticus 16:11 says that the high priest must slaughter a bull first in order to atone for himself and his own family.
Leviticus 16:15-19.
Leviticus 16:2-34, 23:23-32; Numbers 29:1-11.
The temple rituals are described in detail in Talmud Bavli, tractate Yoma.
Talmud Bavli, Yoma 36b.
Unetaneh Tokef is sung at the end of the Amidah in the Musaf service, which usually occurs in the early afternoon of Yom Kippur.

Rosh Hashanah: Shofar

A new year in the Jewish calendar, 5787, begins this Friday evening with two days of Rosh Hashanah prayer services—and the blowing of the shofar.

Wm. Carpenter blowing a shofar in sunlight

shofar (שֺׁפָר, שׁוֹפָר) = A ram or goat horn with the tip cut off and modified slightly so that it can be blown like a natural trumpet, buzzing one’s lips against the mouthpiece. (Plural: shofarot, שׁוֹפָרוֹת.)

Here is what a shofar blast sounds like:

https://audio.com/stephen-1836267568609607/audio/shofar-sound

Every shofar has a different pitch, depending on the size and shape of the animal’s horn. An experienced shofar blower can get two different notes. But unlike a natural trumpet, a shofar is never played with other instruments.

The first time anyone hears a horn blowing in the Hebrew Bible is at God’s revelation on Mount Sinai.

And it happened on the third day, in the morning; and there was thunder, and lightning flashes, and a heavy cloud on the mountain, a very strong sound of a shofar. And all the people that were in the camp trembled. (Exodus 19:16)

The sound of a shofar is also part of a divine manifestation in the book of Zechariah.¹ But elsewhere in the bible, human beings blow the shofar. In the book of Joshua, shofar blowing makes the walls of Jericho fall down.² King David has the shofar blown when he brings the ark into his new capital in Jerusalem.³ The shofar is often blown as a signal in battle,⁴ to rally troops,⁵ to sound a general alarm⁶, and to inaugurate a king⁷. The sound of the shofar means that something important is about to happen, and everyone should pay attention!

In four verses, the Hebrew Bible calls for shofar blowing to announce a holy day. One of these occasions only happens every fiftieth year, on Yom Kippur. Then the book of Leviticus prescribes shofar blasts to announce the year of Yoveil (“Jubilee” in English), when all Hebrew slaves are freed and all farmlands are returned to the families that originally owned them.⁸ The shofar is also blown to announce the more ancient festival days observed every new moon and every full moon.⁹

And two biblical verses call for blowing the shofar on the first day of the month of Tishrei. But neither verse says why the first day of Tishrei is holy.

Tishrei 1 in Leviticus

In the seventh month, on [day] one of the month, will be [like] a Shabbat-observance for you, a zikheron by a blast, a holy convocation. Any servile work you must not do. You must
bring a fire-offering to God. (Leviticus 23:24-25)

zikheron (זִכְרוֹן) = reminder, memorial, remembrance.

Sometimes the first day of the month of Tishrei is called Yom HaZikheron (“Day of the Reminder”), but the bible never says what the day is a reminder of. The text continues with the next holy day in the calendar:

However, on the tenth of this seventh month, it is Yom HaKipurim. A holy convocation will be for you, and you must afflict your throats [fast], and you must bring a fire-offering to God. And you must not do any work at all this day, because it is Yom HaKipurim, lekhapeir for you in the presence of God, your God. (Leviticus 23:27-28)

Yom HaKipurim (יוֹם הַכִּפֻּרִים) = Day of the Atonements (now called “Yom Kippur”). (From the root verb kapar, כָּפַר = atone, reconcile; cover over.)

lekhapeir (לְכַפֵּר) = to make atonement, to make a reconciliation; to cover over. (Also from the root verb kapar.)

Since the first day of the month of Tishrei is Yom HaZikheron (“Day of the Reminder”), perhaps it is a reminder that Yom Kippur is only ten days away. Blowing the shofar might remind people to prepare for Yom Kippur. But holding a holy convocation with extra offerings at the altar implies something more.

Tishrei 1 in Numbers

No zikheron (reminder) is mentioned when the first of Tishrei comes up in a list of holy days in the book of Numbers.

And in the seventh month, on [day] one of the month, a holy convocation will be for you. You must not do any servile work. A day of a blast it will be for you. (Numbers 29:1)

Here, the text continues with the usual itemization of additional offerings at the altar for a particular holy day—in this case, one bull, one ram, seven lambs, and flour mixed with oil,

And one hairy goat, a guilt offering, lekhapeir for you. (Numbers 29:5)

This is not the goat chosen by lot in the ancient Yom Kippur ritual, but just an animal used in a general guilt offering. Still, the verse does introduce the idea of atonement for guilt.

Rosh Hashanah

What instrument is supposed to be blown to make the blasts on the first day the month of Tishrei? Neither of these Torah passages says. The ancient Israelites blew blasts on both a shofar and a metal trumpet. After the fall of the second temple in 70 CE, the rabbis decided that the shofar was blown on the first day of Tishrei.

They also (in a divided opinion) decided that the first of Tishrei was the first day of the year: Rosh Hashanah (“Head of the Year”), even though it was the seventh month after Nissan, the rabbis’ other candidate for the beginning of the year. (A whole tractate of the Babylonian Talmud is devoted to Rosh Hashanah.)

And why is the first day of the year a holy convocation, holy enough to suspend most kinds of work for the day? The Talmud says that it is because ten days later we observe Yom Kippur, the annual day to return to God and to pray for God to forgive our misdeeds of the past year.

So the shofar blowing on Rosh Hashanah announces the next holy day, sounds a general alarm that we need to wake up and turn back to God, and annually inaugurates God as the king of all living beings.¹⁰ (The liturgy of Rosh Hashanah and Yom Kippur is full of references to God as king.)

Services with shofar blasts

Rosh Hashanah begins with an evening service, continues the next day with a long series of prayer services and a late afternoon Tashlikh ritual, then goes on for a second long day of services.

The morning services are similar to Shabbat morning services, but they have Rosh Hashanah additions to the liturgy, and especially juicy Torah and hafatarah readings.¹¹ Then there is a short Shofar service before the Musaf (“Additional”) service. Both the Shofar Service and the Musaf service include shofar blasts (unless the day is Saturday, since the Talmud ruled that the shofar should not be blown on Shabbat).¹²

In the Musaf service, three special sections are embedded in the repetition of the Amidah (“Standing prayer”). These sections are titled Malkhuyot (“kingships”), Zikhronot (“reminders”), and Shofarot (“shofars”). Each section begins with biblical verses applying its theme to God, followed by shofar blasts, followed by singing.

According to the Talmud, Rabbi Akiva said that God said: “And recite before Me on Rosh Hashanah verses that mention Kingships, Remembrances, and Shofarot: Kingships so that you will crown Me as King over you; Remembrances so that your remembrance will rise before Me for good; and with what will the remembrance rise? It will rise with the shofar.”¹³

Malkhuyot

Rosh Hashanah services add many references to God as king, since this is the season of divine judgement. The Malkhuyot section of the Musaf service includes this exultant verse from the ancient Song of the Sea in the book of Exodus: God will reign forever and ever! (Exodus 15:18) Every year, we symbolically coronate God as our king once again, with blasts of the shofar.

Zikhronot

The sound of the shofar may startle us into remembering God, but on Rosh Hashanah we ask God to remember us and let us live another year. So the Zikhronot section includes the story of the binding of Yitzchak (“Isaac”) and God’s substitution of a ram for the sacrifice, and a prayer that the ram’s horn (shofar) will remind God of this act of mercy.

Shofarot

In the Shofarot section, we tell the story of how God manifested to the people at Mount Sinai with the sound of the shofar.

On Rosh Hashanah, someone blows the shofar, and everyone hears the sound of the blasts. Some of the liturgy imagines God hearing us blow the shofar, then being moved by our allegiance, remembering the old love for us, and returning to us as a father and king.

When we human beings hear the shofar, we wake up, straighten up, and remember God. We, too, work on teshuvah, which means “returning”. In traditional language, we need to return to God. In modern language, we need to return to the good soul inside us, to whom we really want to be.

It is easy to drift away from God, or from the good. What will sound the alarm to bring you back?

Zechariah 9:14.
Joshua 6:4-5, 6:8-20.
2 Samuel 6:15.
Judges 7:18-22; 2 Samuel 2:28, 18:16, 20:22; Jeremiah 42:14; Nehemiah 4:14.
Judges 3:27, 6:34; 1 Samuel 13:3-4; 2 Samuel 20:1.
Jeremiah 4:5, 4:19, 6:1; Ezekiel 33:3-6; Joel 2:1, 2:15; Amos 3:6.
1 Kings 1:34, 1:39; 2 Kings 9:13; Psalms 47:6, 98:6.
Leviticus 25:9.
Psalm 81:4.
Babylonian Talmud, Rosh Hashanah 16a, 34a.
Genesis 21:1-21 and 1 Samuel 1:1-2:10 on the first day; Genesis 22:1-19 and Jeremiah 31:1-20 on the second day.
Talmud Bavli, Rosh Hashanah 29b.
Rosh Hashanah 16a.